(Another segment that’s long overdue but I have a list of excuses in case anyone wants to know what the frib I’m up to these days. It’s called work, as in real work, the somewhat remunerative kind which can’t be passed up. Let’s see, how would this go: “Sorry sir but I’m behind in my blogging so I won’t be coming to work today, maybe not til next week.” I’m sure they’d be not only understanding but fully supportive… 🙂 )
Two handlers approach to take me. Suddenly every once of strength leaves me, the world around me turns black and I hear a noise as a great waterfall. I am aware that I collapse and the handlers, instead of holding on to me let me fall into the sand.
Even in the state I’m in I can understand their reluctance to touch me. I’m a frightful mess and the smell of Warmo is all over me and how can they know it isn’t my smell? They cannot even know for certain I’m still alive.
End blog post #80
Begin Blog post #81
Chapter 34 – Aftermath – Fear – Petition for Execution
When I come to from the blood-loss induced faint I’m lying on the gurney at the entrance to the auto-medic. A female Cydroid in a green body suit is working on my ribcage. I’m in excruciating pain and there doesn’t seem to be any part of me that’s exempt. I’m not connected to IV tubes but I feel a throbbing at the side of my head and a wire lead dangles out there, leading to a shunt on a console by the Cydroid. I remember the temple wound. Obviously some internal damage was done there. I hope it isn’t serious enough to make me “dikfol.”
I open my mouth and manage what sounds like the croak of a raven, “Yoba Five?”
She stops her work to look me full in the eyes. “Yes – I’m your doctor today. Don’t try to move, please. Here, sip on this.” She hands me a pink liquid in a flask with a bent straw sticking out of a stopper. I suck greedily on what tastes like nectar and feel a bit better.
“Balomo is with our King. Your success has caused great consternation among the male aristocracy. There is a Court group that is petitioning for your immediate execution. They fear the power that destroyed Warmo. He was akin to a Gray Eminence, a mad Rasputin if you will – I get these images from your mind – who had much influence over the real King and many of his courtiers. It is believed that only a greater demonic force could have killed Warmo, especially without weapons. As you know, they don’t believe in greater ‘angelic’ forces on this world. There is evil and more evil, that’s all. By simple reasoning, that makes you a greater demon than Warmo in their eyes.
“You wonder at the reason they acquiesced to his demands to fight you bare handed? It’s simple: he convinced them your power was in blades, not in flesh. He said in flesh he would defeat you and by drinking your blood he would absorb the power you have over the females. Then he would be able to put more fear of men in them. By defeating him you caused the opposite to happen. The males now fear that somehow you have empowered the females and they will openly rebel against their slavery as your story spreads, not just here in the compound but out into Elbre and beyond. You must realize the crisis you have precipitated here. It’s the first time males have had any fear of women, except for those brief and useless moments in the arena when they are being killed by one.”
Still in great pain and with difficulty I ask, “So what do I do now?”
“There is nothing you can do. Your body is still a serious mess and needs repairs. I’m preparing you for a second round in the auto-medic and hope we have enough time. Your pardon or sentencing should be coming in the next three or four hours.”
“How long have I been out, then?”
Compared to mine, her voice is that of an angel. “This is the day after your fight. You were in the auto-medic all night and it’s now 9:39 in the morning. Time for your second treatment now.”
“Please promise me that if I’m to be executed, you stop the treatment immediately. I don’t want to be feeling better just to be tortured to death.”
“I understand. You have a Cydroid’s mind patterning! I have to bring you out if you are to be terminated. You can’t be found in that!” She points to the auto-med. “In any case, know this, that you have accomplished much during your years here, and especially yesterday. This world will never be the same.
“Bal will alert me by caller if he is returning with guards to take you away as I cannot be seen. I will release you from the auto-medic, wheel you in the front office and leave you there. Bal will explain to them that he left you on the table because you had fainted and he didn’t think you would make it anyway. In case we cannot speak again let me wish you a straight, guilt-free journey to your home you call Altaria. I’d like to accompany you there.”
“Thank you Yoba Five. However it goes, we shall meet again.”
“I’ve calculated the possibility in the high percentile.” And she smiles her beautiful smile. Bless you, Yoba Five.
As she attaches the gurney to the retracting mechanism of the auto-med I slip inside the open “mouth” of the A-M and it irises shut on me. The world disappears and I’m put in anaesthetized trance. Many lights flash on the boards as I’m being re-adjusted. Music plays softly in my ears and messages pass by like the voices of distant angelic messengers. A veritable litany of the many things wrong with my biology the auto-med enumerates for the record as it probes my battered body.
“Make a mistake, Medic. Terminate me now.” I whisper.
End blog post #81